Tuesday, July 12, 2016

Poetry By Tyler Lowery

Tyler Lowery has benn published in Imaginary Gardens and by Severine magazine.diapasonssetting the needledownI decided tospray the leaveswith melodyfrom a bent trumpet -I watched the sunletter dawn acrossthe acrostic sky stretching under thetilted sycamoresstill mourning their leavesas they becamefeathers flapping into the breeze -the notes saunteredin reds and burnt orangescascading over the autumn dew -a pale morningdivided the sky whilelight glistened throughtiny droplets of water,a magnifying glassslowly burningaway the darkness -I sat and listened as the diapasons pattering in time with the crackling forty fiveexploring thesymphony neatlytucked behindveils of emblazonedleaves and goldenblades of transition.

Four died for TwoFour died for Two in the last twenty four -it comes out smoother when you talk about it like an equation is this what we’ve become?statistics andheadstoneslining the side of the roadhell bent on a flashpointthat no one can turn aroundthere are no Kings today - he’d be crucifiedhe was unfaithful anywayso why bother?no one would listenunless his hashtagscaught fireso here we areagainstuck choosing whichside is less wrong in the murder ofinnocent people -it’s all a tragedynot that anyonewill ever notice.

planned obsolescenceour ditches are littered with sonsand the corners with daughtersthe hopeful and hard pressed both have their hands outstretchedneeding but never wanting -wretched and numb from the colddistant winter blowingthrough their minds like a fucking banshee -screaming about how they could have been so much morescreaming vengeance at them - preaching unfairness treachery and slothtelling them the lies that were always meant for themthat even at the end of the road lies another pile of shit to scooprip the children from their mothers -free them from their tits before they learn what protest isshow them avarice in the place of adviceand dust from them the cobwebs of contentmentand truly pour deep everything we already knowstart them young - a healthy diet of steel and hatredphobic of everything not seen in the mirrornot held sacred at the dinner table or by the tithe takersthe tutors of faith and the bloodied and beaming tyrantsraise them like leper armies - limbless and empty headedgaunt and godly so long as they have their guns -raise them as titans as monoliths too big to ever fall - to ever admit defeat at the handsof science and reasonraise them immortaland afraid of their creations-raise them in fearin anger and contemptraise them as mongers - rapists and pillagerswith frothing mouths and grasping fingers - raise them as barbariansto liberate men of their fleshtheir ideas and their voices -teach them to die cowardsto fall and stay fallenin disgrace and defeat -teach them of todaynot tomorrow or yesterdaybut of the very momentthey’re wastingshow them solid objectsand not the ideas behind themteach them their permanence their infallibility and thatthis is their own stakein happiness -incorruptible and absolutealways painted greenand immediately obsolete -teach them to stand stilland watch the windblow past themto leave them behind -a broken toy fit forthe next generationto step on and crushbelow their own infallible boots.

chirpingsometimes I’ll sit in a silent roomaway from the yappingdogs and the chirpingnotifications - there’s no escaping life completelybut it’s nice to considerthe evenings a fewthousand years ago -where all there wascould stainthe wall of a cavedance across the flamesbuilt by handand sung to lifeby the chirpingcrickets alone.

drawn and quartereddrawn and quartered - that’s where they tieeach of your limbsto horsesand giddy up to thefour corners of the map -taking your arms and legswith themalternatively - it’s being stuck betweenthe four seasons of being a whole personhappy sad angryand nothing -call it what you willbut there’s no escapingan afternoon chasing afterevery piece of your mindjust to pour a drinkand get off the couchlong enough to writethis shit down